


3 AM

by leighwrites



Series: Leigh's Request Time [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: A little Bichie as requested from a friend, M/M, fluffy-fluffs, it's really short i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 06:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14538609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighwrites/pseuds/leighwrites
Summary: Richie has a tendency to wake Bill up at three in the morning when he has trouble sleeping.





	3 AM

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my weekend requests which can be requested on tumblr @aizeninlefox

 

Sometimes Bill Denbrough loved Richie Tozier, and sometimes he absolutely hated him. Richie could be loud and obnoxious, and not to mention very _distracting_ , but other times… he could be caring, comforting, and _extremely_ protective of his small circle of friends.

But when Richie called him at three in the morning, Bill _really_ hated him.

The sound of the annoying standard Nokia ringtone (Bill had not yet figured out how to change it and he refused to let any of the others show him as he was determined to learn this on his own) echoed through Bill’s room, stirring him from the peaceful sleep he’d been having.

One look at the clock revealed that it was currently three am, and Bill let out a tired groan.

“God fucking damn it Richie.” He grumbled, reaching for the charging phone and flipping it open before placing it to his ear. “Whuh-what’d you want? I was sluh-sleeping Richie.”

“I thought speech therapy was supposed to help that stutter?” Richie asked, sounding just as tired as Bill.

“Fuh-fuck you asshole.” Bill snapped, attempting to keep his voice low as he rolled onto his back.

“Can I come in?” Richie asked, an anxious edge to his voice.

“What?”

“I said: can I come in?” Richie repeated, firmer this time. “It’s freakin’ cold out here Big Bill.”

“Whuh-why are you out –”

“Come on Bill!” Richie hissed. “Just open your window.”

Bill groaned. “Fuh-fine.”

“Great! I’ll be up in a minute!”

The line went dead as Richie hung up and Bill snapped the phone shut, placing it back onto his nightstand, using his other hand to throw off his blanket.

It was times like this that he was thankful there was only a small space between his bed and the window since it made letting Richie into his room a quick task and then he could be back under the warm covers of his bed.

Richie was at his window the moment Bill had leaned over his desk to start sliding it up, and he automatically reached out to grab Richie’s wrist to help him climb in over the desk. Once Richie was standing safely in front of the desk, Bill slid the window shut again and turned to face him, squinting through the dark.

“So _why_ were you outside my house at three in the muh-morning?” Bill asked, heading back to his bed so he could at least sit under the covers.

“Ah, well, you see dear Billiam.” Richie kicked off his shoes and dropped to sit at the foot of the bed, almost tumbling backwards off it. At least _Stan_ had a footboard on his. “I had a little uh… difficulty sleeping.”

Bill frowned. “I figured _that_ part out, Rich. You call me every time you cuh-can’t.”

Richie groaned, folding his hands into his lap. “Well… I just wanted to come over and see you. Is that a crime now, big Bill?”

“ _Richie_.”

“Okay fine I… its stupid but… yeah… okay… I had a bad dream.”

Silence stretched over them for a moment, and then Bill shifted towards him, reaching out and grabbing Richie’s hand and threading their fingers together. Richie didn’t move and Bill squeezed at his hand.

“I told you before, Rich… it’s not stupid.” Bill said, his thumb running against the back of his hand. “Was it the same one as before?”

Richie opened his mouth, closing it quickly since he didn’t trust his voice before nodding. Richie had told Bill about his nightmares before; the ones sparked by the memory of that stupid missing poster he’d found in Neibolt house.

The nightmares of going missing, waking up in the sewer and…

Richie shifted uncomfortably on the bed, drawing his legs up towards his chest. Bill frowned and tugged him forward, causing the taller boy to topple forward face down onto the bed.

“The fuck was that for?” Richie asked, his voice muffled into the blanket by Bill’s crossed legs.

“Come here.” Bill said, releasing Richie’s hand and patting the space next to him.

Richie slowly pushed himself up enough to crawl up the bed to sit next to Bill who stretched his legs out under the blanket and adjusted it over both of them.

“You know I’d never let something like that happen to you, right?” Bill asked, reaching out and taking Richie’s hand again, holding it in the small space between them.

“I know that Bill.” Richie said, and for the first time that night, he actually felt confident.

It was amazing how often Bill made him feel so strong; even during nights like these. Bill raised their hands and slid across the space so they were sitting directly side by side, legs his side pressed up against Richie’s.

“You wanna stay here tonight?” Bill asked.

Richie furrowed his brow, thinking it over for a moment. “What about your parents? Won’t they be mad that I broke into your room at three in the morning?”

Bill chuckled. “First of all, I let you in. Secondly, it’s not like they check in here, and tomorrow is the weekend. They sleep in late. I’ll just say you showed up _really_ early.”

Richie was the one to chuckle this time. “What’d I ever do to deserve someone like you who blatantly lies to their parents for me?”

“You were you.” Bill said, releasing Richie’s hand for the second time that night so he could reach up to remove Richie’s glasses, pausing for a moment to press a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. “Now go to sleep. You’re okay here. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Richie nodded, biting back a yawn as he slid further down the bed to lie down, rolling to face the window. Bill placed the glasses on the nightstand next to his phone and settled back down into the bed facing Richie, curling an arm around his waist and drawing him back into his chest.

“Richie?”

“Yeah Bill?”

“Wake me up at three in the morning again and I’m castrating you.”

“Right-o Big Bill! How does two-fifty suit you?”

Bill rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to the base of Richie’s neck. “Yeah, okay, whatever. Two-fifty is fine.”

Bill hated when Richie called him at three in the morning and disturbed his sleep.

But Bill also _loved_ Richie; especially in those few moments when he actively sought him out for comfort, allowing Bill to slowly chip away at the complex personality that belonged to the group’s resident Trashmouth.


End file.
